We visited a church on Sunday. I hated it. I wrote out a blog post and told Chris about it. He said, "You're being harsh. You're going to regret posting that. Why don't you wait a few days." I thought he was wrong, but he has this annoying habit of being right when he says I'm being judgmental, so I waited. Yesterday morning I read this in a commentary on Leviticus about the process for priests judging whether a person with a skin inflammation is clean or unclean:
It is a work of great importance but of great difficulty to judge of our spiritual state: we have all cause to suspect ourselves (emphasis added), being conscious to ourselves of sores and spots, but whether clean or unclean is the question...The priest must not make the judgement rashly but must take his time.
Later that afternoon we drove by the church and one of the boys said, "There goes the dumbest church ever."*
Yikes.
Dear Unnamed Church,
I'm sorry for obsessing and ranting over your speck while the plank in my own eye remained fixed and free from commentary. Also thank you for the life memory. I will never forget sitting next to my serene Methodist mother-in-law when you requested we lift up our hands and shout. If my life ever flashes before my eyes, that will be one of the scenes.
*My criticisms were, unfortunately, not confined to the pen.
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